Little Bites
by ImagineI
Summary: One-shots full of passion, adventure and danger following our favourite couple: the Crazy, Impulsive Vampire himself and his Warrior Princess. Alternating POVS and occasionally rated M. Please, come in...
1. Sensitive

Sensitive

A fledgling, so to speak, she was still rather sensitive to the sunlight, despite her newly enchanted talisman. She moaned the good moan as I hugged her close to me- she sitting on my thighs as we melded together- but as the dawn-sun glistened through the white lace-drapes (her addition), I sensed her discomfort in the smallest of tight breaths.

"Okay," I soothed, quietly, slowly, lifting her up with me off my bed as I moved to the window. She wrapped her legs around my waist and nuzzled into the crook of my neck, kissing and sucking a little as I pulled the larger, emerald curtains closed, cloaking us in our delicious darkness.


	2. Nightish

Nightish

His fingers stroked in and out of my palms in time with my erratic breathing, his tongue swirling round and round on my breast, tightening a knot inside me that I was sure would explode any second from the pressure. Silky, nightish hair feathered my skin, knitting my nerves to his.

I clenched my thighs on his hips to get his attention and for a few tortuous seconds he ignored me before looking up. I clutched his hands and pushed myself up so I was sitting in his lap and without breaking intense eye contact, let go of his hands and pushed his top off. The next moment, I pushed him down and mirrored his actions, eventually surprising him with a nip and then a harder bite.

He sighed my name gently, stroking my hair and holding my head gently before rearing up and clasping my face in his hands, kissing me deeply and beginning a slow but determined race.


	3. Hunger

Hunger

I woke up suddenly and gasping through a pleasure that had seeped into my dreams. It had startled me into consciousness like a firework had exploded inside of me.

There was a fantastic pressure and motion against my most sensitive spot that had me gripping the duvet even before I felt fear, which gradually polluted the paradise before I identified the perpetrator. But the technique of the fingers that joined the tongue- the bump of ring- had me moaning in both relief and intense joy as I realised it was Damon.

My hands shot under the covers and found his hair. I scraped my nails over his scalp and sighed in appreciation, my hips rearing of their own accord to greet him. His hand levered my lower back up and tilted slightly so blood could charge quicker to his target.

"Damon, Damon, Damon," I breathed for every exhalation until I was almost overwhelmed by the ecstasy. But before I was tipped over the edge, he surged up, staring me right in the eyes with a strong smirk as he slid into me. The smirk disappeared before long as he pushed deeper and deeper and an almost painful look of innocence and candour came upon his face that gave me the impression- the arousing impression- that he was somehow performing for me, giving me his best effort, working hard (pun intended) for praise. All he needed was to be needed and that was simple to accomplish because I needed him like I needed blood, like a limb, air, whatever.

It was an agonising wonder and I wanted more, fast. He complied, deftly reading my body language and commanding my hips faster and faster with his hands, thrusts hitting a glorious spot both inside and outside of me.

"Good morning," he panted before diving down for a heart-stopping kiss, breaking away to say, "heard you missed me."

I groaned and pulled his neck down to lock tongues, holding him tightly inside me and trying to communicate as much want as was vampirically possible. The smell of him- like lavender and liquorice- and the feel of his silky black mane was invigorating.

Then I was struck with another hunger he too could only satisfy. The thirst must've morphed my face or else he felt it in our bond for next second his bitten palm with in my mouth and his blood was flowing thick and hot, sweet and dark and peppery, into my mouth. I salivated for more, body writhing in happiness as I heard him groan in release and vulnerability and I tasted absolute devotion in his blood.

His thrusts became longer and more fluid as I sucked then lapped his wound closed and rose up to kiss him warmly, welcoming him home as my legs embraced his body to me.

We both exhaled, at peace. Quickly, the tension notched up again and Damon's wicked streak was revealed, a devilish determination that all at once made me more vulnerable than ever and he knew it. I was no longer just a partner but a victim of pleasure which I knew was reciprocated. We were hurtling desperately towards the peak of the ride, wrenching every last inch of energy and concentration-

"Yes," we both hissed, taking a moment to smile at one another at the coincidence before crying out our release.


	4. Gourmet

Gourmet

I was in safe hands and I knew that as his eyes smiled at me and his fingers drew my panties down. He lowered with them, resting on the balls of his feet. As he tilted his head to the side, however, I was reminded of the danger absent from Stefan's sexuality. Damon's tongue was, to my eyes, slightly sharper, his eyes more piercing, his fingers more dexterous: dangerous weapons wielded with a keen wisdom of womanizing and I was about to be prey.

Wonderful.

It was exactly what I needed; gourmet and exotic.


	5. Partner

Partner

I tapped my fingers on the edge of the theatre box, upset with myself that I was bored at the ballet. I'd seen better, but my ennui was not solely based on this fact.

I was bored generally.

Feeds were exhilirating as ever but beyond that I was not stimulated and it hurt that I could find no excitement when I had been given the chance to experience so fully and richly. I'd been a vampire for over a decade, now and a couple of years ago had decided I needed some solo time to see the world; I didn't know I would be gone this long. It had been a peaceful parting with Damon, not so much a breaking up as a putting-on-hold. He was painfully understanding. But as Shakespeare had said, parting was such sweet sorrow and so whilst I'd enjoyed myself, the sting was still there...

So I'd distracted myself with ballets, operas, rollercoasters and parties but to no particular avail.

There was only one dance and one dance partner who could resurrect my joie de vivre (or, perhaps more fittingly, morte).

My arrival in Mystic Falls was discrete. I arranged no hotel, brought no luggage and travelled most of the way from New York on foot. This gave me time to contemplate a plan.

But by the time I was in his room, any elaborate ideas seemed silly. We worked on instinct, he and I, were spontaneous and fed off one another in more ways than one.

Watching him muse at his piano from outside in the night, two and a half centuries old and still a delightfully dark devil to behold, I felt a honeyed rush of nostalgia, delight and anticipation.

I leapt silently up the face of the house and grappled my way delicately through his bedroom window, heading for his first port of call before bed-

The shower. Always. Germaphobe.

I switched on the water and stood under the hard, hot and fast water, waiting.

He walked into his bedroom rather casually and sat on the edge of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt and smirking his special smirk at me once he spotted me in the steam.

I finished washing my hair and stepped out, not bothering with the ritual of a towel, speeding to him and landing- still slippery wet and hot from the shower- in his lap. He raked his fingers through my soaking hair and tucked it behind my ear so he could suck smoothly on my lobe. I shivered and relished the feel of his hard, familiar body against my own.

"You know, one would have thought two and a half centuries would immunise you to Time, make it less of a significance." His words draped like velvet around my neck as he kissed and licked up droplets of water. "But two years hurt..."

After enjoying a couple of moments of friction against the fabric of his shirt, I stroked it off his shoulders and instantly pined to reacquaint myself with those majestically crafted bones and muscles. I felt safe and I felt sad.

He kissed me without warning and my nerves surged to the surface of my skin, alert and sensitive to his whim as his thumbs rubbed away the few tears he allowed to escape before replacing my sadness with a far greater emotion: joy.

"Elena," he breathed.

Finally.

Home.


	6. Crushed

Crushed

Salvatore Boarding House was dormant and ghostly silent. Not even the fire crackled. I felt cold immediately- especially in my short, backless dress- as I walked past the living room and towards the kitchen, sensing activity there without really hearing it; feeling it with these magnified instincts.

He was sat there, at the dining table, in the dark- spinning a knife en pointe, the deadliest dancer. The top button of his black shirt was undone. He was angry, I could practically smell that. For the first time in a year, I was genuinely and instantly scared of him. Was he jealous, perhaps? Had he seen me at the Grill? Had he seen… Stefan? A chill sliced through me.

"What's going on?" I asked, as calmly as possible, spying then an open bottle of champagne next to his elbow. "We celebrating?" I tried to inject some humour into the atmosphere.

"Oh, we're celebrating," he replied quietly, with the tiniest of smiles. "Your coming… of… species."

I didn't know whether to make a move, whether some demon had possessed Damon, through compulsion or otherwise- if he wasn't possessed I had no reason to be scared, I knew that. But I had no safe way of gaging the situation.

I folded my arms and leaned against the doorway, licking my lips discretely but feeling guilt clot my throat as the taste resurfaced… the taste of-

"I told you once: I told you how… how personal blood-sharing is." He kept spinning that knife on its point. Guilt rooted me and I opened my mouth, horrified. He was in front of me before I could gasp, before I could explain, and those eyes- eyes that transported you to a whole new world- arrested mine. He was reading me; he could do that. I wouldn't need to say a word, I reassured myself. I let the truth seep onto my face.

"What did you see?" I whispered. Already with him this close I could feel the now familiar sensation of my nerves sewing themselves to his, of our scents blending. He smelled incredible- he always had. Dark chocolate and lavender.

He searched my eyes and I could tell he was loathe to reveal he'd only seen me lick Stefan's wound; he didn't know that had been the extent of it. Stefan had cut his wrist on a broken glass and jokingly offered it to me and in jest I had licked; there had been absolutely nothing romantic or sexual entailed. What Damon had seen was… God. I understood the tension. His glare chained my every nerve to his whim.

"It was nothing," I said, and I emphasised the point with a nod. I raised a hand to touch his cheek but before even the slightest chance I was swept away and in a blur I was against the kitchen counter, his hips pinning me there. Suddenly I was blind, something wrapped and knotted tight around my eyes. A plate crashed on the floor as I spun myself round with vamp-speed to resist but I was spun back into position instantaneously. I was about to struggle again but he calmed me with a gentle kiss in the crook of my neck. I understood- I was being claimed, reminded; he needed this, needed to be boss for a moment and whilst I would have loved to have taken some equal control (and he would not have forced me if I really did struggle, we both knew that), being dominated just then felt good, felt needed. In the least oppressive way, I was his- just as he was mine- and his myriad insecurities needed a little gathering.

His breath flared down the back of my neck and shoulder and his palms ghosted down my bare arms. My hair was swept up for a few chaste but warm kisses from the top of my spine to just between my shoulder-blades. There was a pause in motion before his lips were on my skin again, fingers interlocked with mine gripping the counter's edge. I gasped- he had ice in his mouth. I shivered and relaxed and tensed about a million times a second as he kissed my neck, my shoulder, down my arm, to my wrist and then my fingers were in his mouth…

Then I was shifted and swerved up onto the counter-top, my legs were parted and my dress bunched, scrunched and slid up my legs. I heard the plate pieces crunch under his boots, felt a temper that made my temperature soar. His fingers were sliding all over me now, wet and icy, moving in tandem with spirit fingers fathoms beneath his touch. Suddenly- and my breath caught in my throat with the unexpectedness- my breast (dress over it) was in his mouth and he was sucking my nipple taut through the fabric, making it tender and sore and fantastic. I felt the chest of the dress being drenched- heard fizz- and knew the champagne had definitely been poured. He set to work on salvaging every last drop and then the dress was gone and I was buzzing with his ministrations. Ice at the tip of his silky hot tongue, his fingertips burning my back, inflaming my body, stars of cold spiking through my veins. And then his breath was misting my damp skin between my breasts, down my torso, over my stomach and my legs were thrown over his shoulders, sweat slipping down my calves from behind my knees. I gripped his elbows, stroking up his arms for mercy from the torturous pleasure but there was no relief, only a surging of the indescribable. I almost slid off the counter as my blood hurtled and then it was cold inside me, cold fingers inside the pulse with long, elegant finesse and he was back to my breast at the same time, threatening biting and taunting me with the knowledge that a great part of me wanted him to feast there. He shook hands with my darker self not with smugness, not to drag me down, but to unlock and free; he told me, in our silent language, unheard to anyone but us, that I could be me. Entirely.

When his mouth left my breast and travelled south, my hand shot out and gripped the closest thing: a harmless basil plant, the leaves crushed in my fist. He was ruthless below but his thumb on my breast was confusingly gentle. I was in a tornado. But I was safe because he had me. He had me… he had me…


	7. Edging

Edging

The lights were off in the bathroom and night was edging its way over the window-sill followed by the milk of the moonlight as Damon feinted kisses down my side: the underside of my arm, over my ribs, my waist, securing the shadows to my skin in the dark room. I gripped the sides of the sink and shivered as I breathed, as his nose traced up my neck, teasing a bite and his fingers slid into me. My breath came out misty as he pressed himself- still jean-clad- to my bare back, his fingers curling in, pressing a sweetly sore spot.

His two fingers were gentle but precise and I couldn't help biting my lip softly as my eyes closed and my body weakened. He found the core of me so easily, sent my blood rushing like a flock of miniscule birds, all the while pressing himself again and again- subtly but surely- against me. He was big, something I would drunkenly boast about and probably had.

People were in the room next door and he knew I was about to bleat out, so he put his hand over my mouth. I delicately licked the salty lines of his palm. He sped up. I couldn't make a sound, oh no, I wasn't going to be that girl. My chest was filled with an elation that made me feel high. He pressed my earlobe between his soft, warm lips and tugged once as his fingers increased their pace evermore. My pulse panicked, bewildered that such simplicity of action could arouse such intensity of sensation, so concentrated.

"Fff-uh…" I let out. I couldn't even form a curse. My head fell back onto his shoulder and he kissed my hair, thumb tickling my eyelashes. Then it was three fingers; his ring finger created a pattern of pressure that was indescribable and his middle finger continued a stylish rhythm that rebounded off my heart.

My chest raised, my nipples peaking and aching to be touched, stroked, rolled, sucked, bitten- anything! I bit the flesh of his hand, hard, and he growled into my ear, encouraging and reprimanding me. The air from the half-open window suddenly gusted over me and I tingled all over. I heard Damon whisper a chuckle and smiled and panted. Desperation shackled me, every nerve dancing to Damon's tarantella. His other hand swept down my stomach, which swooped. My neck jerked and I found I had access to his ear, so I bit as affectionately as I could, but drew blood as my fangs peeked out. I sucked it sweetly and his breath hissed out, my body writhing of its own accord against his, which remained still, almost serene. I was the anxious tide to his calm sea.

My hands flew from the sink to his hair. He bumped me against the cupboard as his fingers picked up pressure. His eyes met mine briefly in the mirror as his mouth clamped around my neck and I moaned faintly, fangs grazing over my thrilled skin. My nails dug hard into his neck as he bit and drew blood and my body collapsed. He caught me securely round the waist as I came, undone and won, pleasure shooting up and down through every vein. The throbbing just kept on going.

I felt my face contort with shock and ecstasy and I rubbed my behind appreciatively against him; he hummed appreciatively back as I was spun tighter and tighter in a web of joy. A satisfied heat burned over and under my skin and I quivered, weak, elbow now crooked round his neck as I attempted steadying my hurtling heart. His fingers slid out of me gently and I hissed through my teeth- sensitive- before he managed to turn me and sit me on the sink; round two.

Facing him all I could do was kiss him and he smiled that artful smirk as I did. They say a picture says a thousand words; I think a kiss does too. His tongue was a wicked thing. I jolted slightly- in excitement- when I heard the clink of metal of his belt and eased forward, embracing him to me with my legs. I scratched over his t-shirt, desire flailing like a flame inside me as I felt every ridge and dip of his torso. Our breath warmed together, washing over our faces.

Then came the knock.

I flinched, Damon ignored, consumed me with a kiss that sent the knock spiralling away behind a buzz of adrenalin and gleeful anticipation. But the knock came again.

"Everything okay?" I called out.

Damon's mouth hypnotised me, focusing on the tendons of my neck.

"Bonnie called-" Jeremy, a yank on the reins of sex. "She wanted to talk."

Damon gripped my thigh and his tongue travelled over my collarbone and further. I gasped, Damon's breath hot.

"Can you tell her to call me ba-ahh!" It was like being flown to some private paradise having Damon's mouth on me so, tender and imaginative. My thighs clamped instinctively on his hips and his jeans fell, his warm hands on my ribs making me feel precious.

"She sounded like it was pretty urgent," Jeremy urged. I contemplated the word 'urgent' in a state of delirium as Damon's delectable erection- currently cotton-clad- stroked against me. Damon's jaw gymnastics turned more enthusiastic and pleasure flared to all peaks.

"I'll um… um…" Strong arms pulled me forward and my hands went intuitively to his shoulder-blades before his boxers were slid off and he was fully and gloriously against me. 'Um', he mocked me silently, eyebrows arching, before his hands clasped my rear and he tipped me backwards slightly so he could start slowly inching himself inside me. I clutched his hair and shook my head at him. "Is it an emergency?" I called to Jeremy. Damon nodded stubbornly and emphatically back at me and my breath caught as he pushed in further. My heels dug into the backs of his thighs and I was momentarily lost in our gaze, one hand pushing his hair back, one on his chest, his fingers dancing down my sides. It was a sublime feeling of filling up, gaining something lost and I begged every deity that my little brother would go, leave- but the potential of an emergency was like a prison gate slamming on bliss. Bonnie's face swam into my mind and I was dragged from the magic moment.

Damon looked wrathful. I made sure to communicate my equal wrath, sympathy, disapproval, bitterness and as I pulled back, I bit his lower lip (a sort of promise) before groaning and vamp-speeding to get dressed. Before I could exit the bathroom, however, Damon pinned me against the door from behind and bit my shoulder, one-part warning, one-part promise.

"Time to look after the kids," Damon growled, more to himself, buckling up and glaring ahead. I stole a look at Damon in nothing more than black jeans and a scowl- his divine torso bared- to nourish me till later, huffed- truly frustrated and partly hoping there was something to kill or at least maim- then exited.


	8. Zinged

Zinged

I'd always been a little shy about my feet. I loved having them in heels or sneakers, liked painting my toe-nails, but I'd always get giggly and squirmy if anyone went near them.

Damon confronted this with obvious glee as I did indeed giggle and squirm. He brushed kisses on the insides of my feet then looked up at me.

"You don't like people touching you here?" he asked, quite innocently. But innocent for Damon was always a warning. I shook my head but watched him intently, preparing to pounce off the bed the second he moved.

But he started stroking around my calves and ankles instead, so I relaxed.

"So, what are you expecting grade-wise?" he asked. It took me a second to remember school and I reeled off my anxieties over the exams, grateful for a sounding board. "You've put the effort in though, no?

"When I can! I just... I think I'm going to disappoint..." No, I couldn't say it, it would make it that much more real. I fell back on his pillows and put my hands over my face.

"They would be proud," he intuited, not as an obligatory comfort but as a defiant declaration. Before I could reply, I gasped as sensation zinged up my left thigh and the left side of my stomach. I reared up and spied Damon's little finger stroking along the inner side of my foot.

"Wow," I breathed without thinking.


	9. Vintage

Vintage

We were sat in a booth at the Grille, Damon and I; me checking a text from Caroline and he waiting for, wait for it, yes, you've guessed it: bourbon- neat. His arm was rested on the seat behind me and just as I was about to tap send on my reply, Damon turned, presumably to look at something. But just as quickly, his nose was tracing the air right by my neck and his breath skittering over my skin. I shivered and was snared in a gaze with his icy blues.

"I don't much fancy waiting for this drink..." he murmured, suggestively, leaning in and angling his head for a kiss I knew he wouldn't give; he was in a teasing mood.

"Oh?" I indulged, angling my neck provocatively. He noticed and his eyes sparked. "What drink do you fancy?" He hummed thoughtfully, warming my skin.

"Something... hot; a young vintage, but priceless; surprising; one-of-a-kind." He'd started to purr; my toes scrunched in my boots and all my hair tingled.

I swallowed, hungry, but- even with my now vampiric status- I couldn't help but feel like prey.

"Hot, young, priceless, surprising and one-of-a-kind? You're rather picky." I smirked and he smirked on back.

"Oh," he whispered, fingers trailing up my jean-clad thigh, "not picky- committed."

"Oh?" His fingers trailed down to my knee and his beautiful mouth was so close, my breathing shivery.

"I'm a one-drink kind of a guy."

"I thought that was bourbon?"

"I've found another classic."

"Classic?" I echoed, my eyes closing of their own accord as I felt his hair brush against mine. I held his hand in my lap and we stroked fingers.

"A work of art; outstanding; a game-changer; a whole new league of delicious-" the last word was delivered with such skill that I bounded out of my seat as adrenalin shocked my system. Standing, I gripped his hand, digging my nails into his palm and stared at him for no more than a second before he understood that was all I could take.

We sped as humanly as possible out of the bar and then- blessed quiet Tuesday night!- vamp-speeded it to the car, whereupon Damon pointedly paused and gallantly opened the door to the backseat for me, bowing. I took advantage of the moment to steady my nerve-wracked heart and slid in as elegantly as possible. We were driving before I could blink and around the corner in the alley seconds later. Then he was balanced over me, unashamedly breathing me in from behind my neck and traveling down.

His hands held my waist as his nose traced up my throat.

"Any preferences for serving, sir?" I asked, hugging my legs around his thighs and dancing my fingers over his shoulders, back...

"Non-virgin, neat." His fangs scratched the skin above my suprasternal notch, the dip of my collarbone, before his fingers pried open my shirt, revealing my fast-rising chest. His cheek smoothed along one breast and I clutched his hair, waiting for the sweet sting, loving the spell of his body on mine...


	10. Superpower

Superpower

The assistant held up a plain grey cotton bra and I shook my head, muttering, "Too conservative", more to myself than to her.

"Pardon me, ma'am?"

I sighed and tried to formulate a response without revealing the boudoir preferences of one of Mystic Falls' 'most eligible bachelors'.

"Um..." I leaned forward, "Think nineteenth century burlesque and we might have more luck." She looked confused. "Lace, silk, scarlets-"

"Sapphire suits her, actually."

I leapt out of my skin and turned round to see Damon standing there with his autograph smirk, eying the current bra in the assistant's hand with humorous disapproval.

"Hey! You shouldn't be here, this is a ladies' area-"

"Oh, I'm more than comfortable with ladies' areas," he quipped smoothly, revelling in the assistant's blush and taking full advantage of the moment to charm her with his most princely smile and laugh.

"Well, they're not comfortable with you being here," I retorted, unimpressed.

"Don't pout at me, sourpuss, I've just as much right to be a part of this process as you do."

"It was meant to..." I felt my skin heat up and hated him for it but was soon cooled as he started to stroke the fabric of a ridiculously expensive navy silk corset. I swatted his hand away from it and sized up to him as best I could, which- infuriatingly- only made him beam. He was entertained. "It was meant to be a surprise, mister, and if you don't skedaddle it'll be polyesters and elastics in beige and white." His face fell and he sneered like a most disgruntled cat. "Away!" I commanded.

He sighed emphatically, prodding his tongue into his cheek before he turned on his heel and sulked away, up the steps into the pyjama section, hands held behind his back (which told me he was still scheming). I turned back to the poor assistant, whose cheeks were still prettily pink.

Twenty minutes later I had settled on a few sets to try on. I wandered to the changing rooms, wondering where Damon might have wandered off, opened and closed the door to one partition-

"The emerald first, I think." He was sat very comfortably in a chaise longue, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle and hands held behind his head. I couldn't help but smile at his nerve but also because of a thrill of excitement that had raced through me. But I raised an eyebrow at him and rested on a hip, tilting my head to say I wasn't going to change with him there. He ignored this, of course, listening to my pulse and watching my eyes for true reactions. "Oh, with these-" he held out a pair of beautiful. dove-grey velvet heels- "if you please; oh, I like that pout much better."

I hung the lingerie on the hooks and began unbuttoning my shirt, giving in to the fun.

"There's no show for free," I flirted, feeling the beginning sparks of fire in my chest. There was a way he looked at me- proudly, admiringly, so focused and mischievous- that gave me a superpower, a feeling I could do anything. He grinned.

"Oh, rest assured- there's a substantial tip," he replied, and his winged eyebrows arched wickedly.

"Villain."

"Temptress."


	11. Tigers

(During Sire Bond)

* * *

Tigers

Her hand snaked around my wrist as I stoked the fire and I glanced up in askance. Her eyes were sparkling gold in the firelight with something between happiness and longing. I perked an eyebrow.

"Come on, now- don't pull the tiger's tail," I warned, chucking a last piece of wood into the hearth before I stood up. She pressed her body softly against me, palms on my chest and fingers resting on my shoulders. I leaned back slightly but didn't push her off.

"But the tiger's so handsome," she pouted, lightly brushing her thigh and hip on mine. Her dress was short and in a millisecond I imagined a series of events budding from the one action of stroking my fingers just under her behind; I knew how sensitive, almost ticklish, she was there. I knew many things about Elena's body...

No. Stop.

Holding her firmly by the shoulders, I held her away from me.

"This is as much a curse for me..."

"Curse? What do you mean curse? I'm happy, Damon, I've told you that-"

"You're sired to me, Elena!"

"That-"

"Actions or feelings, it doesn't matter... God, what's to say you'll be happy with what you've done with me once it's broken, huh? What's to say you won't feel like you've betrayed Stefan?" I spat my little brother's name, momentarily resenting how much I loved that Prince of Martyrdom, as I stormed to the drinks cabinet.

"I'm not with Stefan, I'm with you. And it feels... amazing. Make me feel amazing. Come on. I know you can." She started to sway towards me. "I know you want to. I want you to want to." She had that radiant smile on her face now, the kind that rivalled the joy of the summer sun.

"No." I took a swig of bourbon and turned to go to my room. She flitted in front of me.

"Damon-"

"No." I speeded up the stairs and then to my bedroom, settling myself onto the bed and grabbing a book to distract me. She was hot on my heels. I glared at the pages of _Gone With The Wind_ as she stood stubbornly at the foot of my bed.

"This is so unfair. You try to get into my pants for over a year and now I'm literally throwing myself at you and you don't want to?"

"Want to..." I echoed quietly, shaking my head and turning the page, though not to read on. I needed to appear occupied, controlled.

"I know you do." I cleared my throat and feigned extraordinary interest in Margaret Mitchell's masterpiece. "Fine," she said and I smiled in bitter victory before I heard her dress rustle to the floor; then the click and tap of her bra coming off and the silky rush of her panties.

_Do not look up. Do not look up. Do not look up. Do not-_

"Remember when you kissed me here?" Without looking up, I saw her fingers stroke along her collarbone. I raised my book and knees, ignoring the infuriating adolescent hellbent on corrupting me. "Or when you stroked me here, along my stomach? Remember how I laughed when you made my tummy swoop and then when you really tickled me here, at my waist, I accidentally kneed you. And we laughed before I touched you and you were all mock-angry and you pinned me down... Remember when you put your tongue on me here. Then here. Then your whole mouth-"

Her gasp was hot in my ear as I rammed her against my wall and snared her eyes to mine.

"Yes, I remember," I whispered hurriedly, cuffing her wrists with my hands and trying not to fall under the spell of her; of her soft breasts pressed on my t-shirt, of her homely warmth, of the gleeful wisp of her soul- the minxish fraction- that possessed me the second I put my lips to hers, so soft and clever, talented but forever asking wordless questions of my wisdom, experience and I could teach her, teach her more...

"Then let us have some relief!" I think she actually stamped her foot- I restrained a laugh and was sobered soon enough when she whispered, "I'm all yours." She lightly nudged her nose to mine, her breath dancing faery-like over my skin. "Take me."

"Elena..." I couldn't resist tracing my nose down her neck, inhaling that sweet, vanilla spice of her skin. Her pulse pattered fast in her wrists against my palms...

"Damon," she breathed.

In seconds, I had a sheet wrapped round her and she was in my doorway, shocked.

"I will not take you if I don't know it's one hundred percent real. As your sire-" She stormed off before I could finish. Victory stung. I slumped back to the bed, ready to distract myself once more, when I was pounced upon. She pinned me to the floor, straddling my back, stroking up my arms and grinding down on me as her tongue made my ear and neck tingle. I half-stifled a groan before flipping us over, unable to resist smiling and laughing. Luckily she still had the sheet wrapped round her divine body. She was a damned Siren. "Are you in heat or something!"

She wrapped her legs around my waist and pulled me down for the tango equivalent of a kiss. I was twisted halfway between heaven and hell, bewitched by her gasps and her fingers, so warm between her welcoming legs, falling into the paradise-cloud of her scent, so riled by the feel of her form against mine-

Somehow, I managed to get her in the shower before she could realise. I switched it on cold and found myself immensely entertained by her betrayed squeal, laughing as she grabbed me and pulled me in with her. She spluttered under the water as we held one another there- my t-shirt and jeans soaked along with my sheet around her- but after a few moments, the cold shower worked the trick.

I tucked her soaking hair behind her ear as I turned the water warm and kissed her softly. She fisted my t-shirt in her hands then relaxed, resigned, kissing me back gently. I held her, resting my chin then soon my cheek on top of her head.

We both calmed down.

Eventually, we made it back to my bed; I found her a book and we settled down to read together after we dried one another off without having sex, somehow.

We settled-

Content and frustrated tigers.


	12. Magic

Magic

His tongue lathed up her inner-thigh, fingers rolling deep inside her as she gripped the mattress above her head. Moan straining through her arched throat, he bit- through skin, tissue, tendon- right to the pulse streaming upwards strong and fast.

It shocked her. He'd never bitten there before. Her entire body jerked and her torso jolted upright so she could stare at him. He gazed back, crimson-stained lips parted and icy blue eyes almost innocent in askance. A shiver danced over the invisible, fine hairs of her legs.

His motions had stopped; he was waiting for her next decree. The silence breathed his question, _do you like this?_

Well, she decided quickly, she definitely did like this, yes. Definitely.

Damon took Elena's gulp as concession and returned to the almost healed wound, sinking his fangs in afresh. Elena gasped, the spot even more sensitive and she arched up, muscles in her back aching as they were stretched. Damon's palms smoothed up her thighs and hips and he held her firmly at the waist, conducting her undulations. He made long, languorous draws from her thigh, each one conflicting with the panicked race of her heart and breath.

Elena's nerves began to sing as both of Damon's hands swept down below her stomach, stroking and teasing her in rhythm with his mouth and his tongue that spiced her skin. He was deft, a master, a pro- almost too good. Familiar fire began to flare out inside of her and in an effort to share that with Damon, she pushed her fingers through his hair. He groaned and his drags became deeper, more intense, like their breathing-

Elena reared up and flipped herself and Damon round so she was straddling him and his back was flush against the headboard of the bed. She consumed his mouth with a kiss before he could protest, tasting her sweet, tangy blood with relish and hurriedly positioning herself so she could settle right onto him. She felt an indescribable hunger to have him inside of her and he didn't have any problem with that. He encouraged her hips forward, sucking sensuously on her lower lip as she raised up on her knees and he guided her gently down.

Grace lasted less than a half-beat for next moment he grabbed her behind and started to grind passionately up into her and she gave as good as she got, so good, in fact, that a look of tortured desperation soon befell Damon's face. The feel of every tiny muscle inside of her engaging, exerting was phenomenally arousing yet still there was a homeliness to this warmth that made his heart thaw and glow. The feeling of Damon so deeply inside of her felt incredible- strong, unyielding, hot- and Elena intoxicated herself by gazing into his ardent eyes, trembling as she came closer and closer to climax.

"Damon..." she breathed and begged, clutching the warm, sweaty hair at the nape of his neck and pressing her forehead to his shoulder.

"Elena," he echoed, voice coarse but gentle and in no way preparing her for the sharp tug on her hair that arched her whole body into his as he licked up her throat, providing a steady sensation that contrasted fantastically with the now erratic pulses and waves of ecstasy. Then, artfully and swiftly, Damon's fingers flew up Elena's spine in what she knew was a well-rehearsed move. It worked powerfully, a sudden surprise of tingles that sent Elena's orgasm rushing through her, making her feel light as a feather but marvellously magic too, more in-tune with the night breeze than her body.

Eager for Damon to join her, she descended slightly from her high to kiss all the love she felt for him- as much as she could- into his mouth as she performed a favoured move of his- a special squeeze and twist- and so splendid was it, they were both giggling in seconds from the joy.


	13. Mad

Mad

"Sometimes we need a goal in life, a quick fix of purpose, a kick in the right direction. After that, work is focused, productive, energised by that sparkle ever-glowing on the horizon. Without that glimmer- of hope, faith, fate, destiny, what have you- all we see ahead is darkness and it takes a great bravery (one I do not possess) to battle on without clarity of achievement.

When I was in my adolescence, schooling (reading, truly) gave me drive. Then, during my twenties, Katherine arrived, a bright red flame that hypnotised me, burnt my blood and blinded me to everything else. When I thought she'd died and when I was vampire, Stefan became my secret mission; I was never far behind him and any way I could help- cleaning up, covering his tracks, compelling witnesses- I would.

Then he was ripped from my vision too, hurled into that 'Great' War. And I- pacifist- was done for. And Irony was my armour from then on in for, in my opposition to war, I became the monster the stories warn about, I became that beast with no virtue. I had no vision but for the hunt. Sure, on the surface I was the comforter to those aching wives, the distraction in their anguished lives as fathers, brothers, husbands and fathers fought courageously on against the foreign enemy.

I became the enemy from home.

For more than half a century, my goal, my purpose, was then solely kicked towards Katherine. I heard rumours that bloomed into truths that she was still alive and from there I was a hound with the scent. And I was mad for that scent.

And then, yet again, both Katherine and Stefan- one way or the other- were stolen from my good half- the half of me that really only wanted to love, pitiful as that may be. I had always been looking for them.

I had never been looking for her, though. Elena. Even her name is the tune of my soul.

Who knew a laugh could unlock a heart? That a peculiar twinkle of the eye could unwind the screws of damnation I'd hammered in myself (for, without a doubt, I did not care if Hell was my horizon, so long as I was helping brother or lover). Her every movement sparked a natural joy in me, reflected in smirks and slanted looks that must've appeared only lecherous (so long practiced was my face as lustful predator). Her spirit, her every instinct, her warmth-

I was consumed-"

"Okay, I think that's enough alcohol for you, Mr Nostalgia," Elena interrupted Damon's rambling as he sat at the bar with a bottle in one hand that was dangerously close- with all of Damon's gesticulations- to being smashed against the surface. Fellow drinkers chuckled amicably as the bottle was persuaded from his grip. He'd been monologuing to no one in particular but had gathered an impressive audience, who were no doubt impressed by the theatre of the performance but not so much as to believe Damon's words. "Come on, home time."

"Elena... this is she!" And Damon dramatically introduced Elena to the Grille, spinning her onto his lap and kissing her so passionately that Elena couldn't help but giggle. She managed to push him off after half a minute.

"What's made you get so intoxicated, then?" she asked, stroking the hair off his face and entertained by the drunken droopiness of Damon's eyes that made his grin somehow still remarkably charming.

"As you say, my dear, nostalgia... nostalgia..."

Elena sighed, watching Damon get drowsier by the second as she straddled him and stroked his hair. His forehead fell onto her chest. She was certain there was no underlying reason to Damon's excursion; being more than a century old, she had sympathy for the occasional outburst that must come when one's experienced so much.

"Home time," she whispered into his hair, but rested her chin on his head and let him have a few minutes of rest.


	14. Breathy

Breathy

He was hungry. Wolf. The open window let in cold, sharp air that made my skin cool and tingle when he tasted the saltiness of our sweat and my tears infused- at my neck, shoulder, breast, rib-cage, then to my mouth where he fascinated me with ravenous, desirous kisses. I tried to calm him, tracing my numb, buzzing finger-tips over his shoulder-blades and down his spine like dancing ice-skaters. But the fire of his desire was roaring now and there was no choice for me but to succumb. I was missed- he had missed me. It was both a blessing and a relief to feel his longing because I'd been so scared that only I had felt this yearning, sharpened by the four months apart. The icy wind bit at my nerves and I shivered into his embrace as finally he laughed- a breathy, joyful sound- when we both pulled the bed covers over our naked bodies instead of parting from each other to close the window. We thawed and warmed to the feel of being home, at last.


	15. Cool

Cool

Her eyes stung and her head ached but despite her monster hang-over, Elena was determined to get up from the parlour sofa and set to work on her college papers. But as soon as she lifted her neck, she was pushed back down. Her head hit the familiar, comfortable strength of Damon's lap and she sighed, knowing she'd already lost her admittedly lame battle. Two cool slices of cucumber were rested on her eyes and then fingers were stroking soothingly through her hair, taming her heartbeat and breath. Groaning slightly, Elena took a peek from under one cucumber and saw Damon was contently consumed in reading some antique hardback or other. She sighed and succumbed to the Salvatore spa treatment, turning her head to rest her cheek on Damon's jeans and smiling despite [self-afflicted] nausea.


	16. Juice

Juice

"Baked salmon with... toasted lemon couscous, I think."

Elena smirked, watching Damon buzzing around the kitchen like the happiest little bee as he prepared dinner.

"Mmm- manly," she teased. Damon cocked an eyebrow as he set some water to boil, characteristically throwing a towel over his shoulder.

"I wouldn't mock too soon, this is a most successful supper."

"Successful how?"

Damon replied with another perked eyebrow as he chopped up a red pepper.

"Oh, it's _seductive_, is it?"

"Well, we'll soon find out," Damon smiled.

"It better be soon- I'm hungry."

"All the better for me, you'll eat anything when you're starving."

"Oh, I'll eat anything of yours, period."

Damon paused, his knife midway through a plum tomato- some juice and a couple of pips burst out.

"Now who's seductive?" He offered her a slice of tomato between two fingers and she leaned over the counter to take it right in her mouth. She curled her tongue up to get a bead of juice from his finger and he shook his head at her, grinning. There was a comfortable lull in conversation, something classical with a beat playing on the radio. Elena took advantage of the calm, feeling minxish.

Standing up, she rounded the island, pretending interest in a wine glass. Damon took no notice- until the Sauvignon Blanc was 'accidentally' poured on his shirt.

"Hey- what are you doing?! This is a vintage shirt!" And without a scrap of seduction, Damon whipped off his top and rushed to the sink. Almost purring with satisfaction, Elena settled herself back down on her seat, pressing her lips together to keep from laughing, then taking a sip from her glass, very amused as Damon had to abandon his shirt in the basin to attend to the bubbling water.

"Now I've got dinner and a show." Damon glared at her but couldn't hold back his smile as Elena's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Yum."


End file.
